The Winchester Whore
by Demolition Debbie
Summary: "You smiled faintly and thought about the strange story of the Winchester Whore, and that maybe she wasn't a whore after all." AU Oneshot. Sam/OC/Dean, but NOT threesome. Can be viewed as Reader-centric if you so please.


The Winchester Whore

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><p>The first time you had crossed paths with a Winchester, you were maybe five and the man who picked you up out of a changeling cage said his name was John. He said he two little boys just a bit older than you, and then broke the news that your father was dead. You never saw him again.<p>

You later met those two little boys (all grown up, of course) when they saved you in the nick of time from the vampire that almost drained you. You bumped into them a lot more now. Being unable to deny to oneself that things really DID go bump in the night tended to drive one to the hunter's life through the fast lane.

The first time you ended up in bed with a Winchester, his brother was dead. Dean was in Hell, and Sam cried. You were feeling a bit bereft yourself since your mother was gone, and when you offered comfort, Sam had taken it. It went a little further than either of you had planned until you were hot and heavy on the hard bed of a skeazy motel. You knew it wasn't serious, just comfort offered and taken. So you went your separate ways, and you didn't hear from him for a month.

You ran into eachother again outside Dallas, and the empty look was still there in his eye. A heated conversation, and then you were kissing, leading to another night in a roadside hovel. Yet another night was had in Seattle a few weeks later, and then nothing for a few years. Oh, you saw eachother plenty, but Sam had his brother back and didn't need you to fill empty nights anymore.

The next time, it was Dean you ran into on a demon hunt in Wichita. A drink led to 6 more, until he was spilling all his troubles. He had left the woman he loved, Sam had no soul, and he was so very alone. A couple dozen more drinks were had, and again you ended up naked and sweaty next to a Winchester. You were holed up in that room for three days before you both had to go back to real life. You crossed paths again in Des Moines and found yourselves in the back of the pickup he was driving.

You didn't see either of them for about six months. A ghost hunt in some backwater Kentucky town brought you all together and ended with some celebratory bar time. Sometime during the night, they realized they had both slept with you, and you made a noncommittal comment when asked who was better. When you were all pretty drunk, a trip to the ladies' room was excused only to find yourself pinned to the bathroom wall with Sam's mouth at your throat. It was hard and fast and you walked out with a hickey hidden under your collar.

Three weeks later and they called you in to sweet talk an old man hiding secrets about a particularly violent spirit. While Sam followed the lead, Dean convinced you to let him rock your world in the backseat of the Impala with that lazy grin of his. After, he playfully smacked your ass and told you the mark he left on your right shoulder was just to top his little brother's.

You heard later that Sam had gotten his soul back sometime that December, but that he didn't remember a thing from his soulless days. He probably had no clue about the bathroom tryst, what a shame. Well, c'est la vie and all that.

You didn't see the Winchesters for awhile after that, and at one point hooked up with some nameless dude in Chicago. But it felt empty and cold and strangely wrong, and you thought wryly that it must be a Winchester thing. They had poisoned you against other men, you supposed. To be fair, it WAS hard to compete with the dynamite duo.

After awhile, you grew tired of The Life. You called up the ever-reliable Bobby and had him put out some feelers, and within a month you landed a job at a DMV office in Oklahoma City. You rented a nice house with a couple extra rooms, and put the word out that hunters passing through had a decent meal, a shower, and a bed for the night.

Of course, the Winchesters showed up a few times. One of them ended up in your bed more times than not, and you wondered if the other ever knew or had qualms about 'sharing' with his brother. The one time you asked, it was laughed off before you even finished talking. They brought a man who said he was an Angel of the Lord once, and you became fond of him on subsequent visits. He was a kind and gentle spirit who liked to watch you make pie and take everything in with those large, soullful eyes of his. He once made a remark on the relationship between the three of you and you smiled and told him it was complicated.

During some downtime, an errant thought crossed your mind about the comparison of the two brothers. Dean was passionate and slow, preferring your pleasure over his. He liked to hear your moans and his name on your lips as you came, and his hands never stopped moving all over your body. Sam was wild and a little rough, his fingers imprinting faint bruises on your hips and the impact robbing you of breath. Sometimes you left with teeth marks in various places, but you always left satisfied.

Considering that your 'encounters' were often tinged with alcohol and thus unprotected, you were honestly surprised that this hadn't happened much sooner. But that was neither here nor there as those two little pink lines were quite clear. You knew exactly who had warmed your bed on the apparently fruitful night in question, and with one phone call a pale but supportive Sam Winchester was sitting in your living room. You laid out your intentions and made it perfectly clear that if he wanted in, the kid would always know who Dad was. It didn't matter how infrequently he was there, because obviously you didn't expect him to stop hunting. Sam was very agreeable and seemed strangely relieved, making you wonder what he had expected. Though to be fair, you weren't entirely sure what you expected either.

Regardless of expectations, it turned out pretty well. You would text him updates and pictures, and he even accompanied you to find out the sex of the baby. He still had a smile plastered to his face when he left clutching the ultrasound of clearly shown male parts.

Dean was rather excited about the whole ordeal, and would often bring small things for the baby when he visited. He even brought you some soft blue yarn once when you mentioned a passing interest in learning to crochet to make a blanket for your baby boy. He was the only brother that expressed interest in your newly curvy body, and you wondered about the origin of that. Pregnancy fetish? The forbidden excitement of fucking a girl while his brother's child grew in her belly? Who knew, you weren't going to question the attention. Even pregnant women had needs, after all.

A few short months later, you called Sam to say that you were in labor and he rushed to you. He didn't quite make it for the big event, but he was there in time to discreetly pay off the lady who handled the birth certificate. Now his son could have his last name without him actually being listed as the father. You lamented that this was a necessity for a moment, but understood that it was unavoidable.

Sam drove you and little John Thomas Winchester home from the hospital, promising to stay a few weeks and help out while you recovered. He wouldn't let you get up at all during the night, retrieving the baby from his bassinet so you could feed him in bed. He even changed a few diapers. He claimed it was just because you weren't up to full strength, but you could see the adoring look he gave his son everytime he set eyes on him.

Dean and Castiel found their way there after a week or so, and Dean was instantly enamored with his nephew. They stayed for another week, before Bobby called with information that no one with shared with you and the brothers and the angel left.

The months passed and the three men stopped by as often as possible. Sometimes Sam would take John for the night, which was nice because you could pass out for a few hours uninterrupted. The time came when you had to go back to work (because rent would not pay itself), so you found a nice teenage girl who was willing to come to your home to watch the baby. You considered it a success when she didn't make any comments about the odd pentagram-looking symbol peeking out from under the rug in the entryway. You made up a story about John's father being a truck driver to explain him being away all the time, and let her know that he could come home while you were at work.

Eventually, Sam and Dean realized that you were still a woman and not just John's mother. It was surprisingly Dean who came to you first, however. He kissed you slowly and deeply, and utterly ravished you in that way of his. He silenced your protests that your body wasn't the same with more kisses, and made sure to carress every slightly curvier inch of your body. They next time they passed through, it was Sam in your bed and it carried on as before.

Of course, being so connected with the Winchesters had it's inevitable downfalls, and one day a demon showed up at your door. It made the floor rumble and cracked the devil's trap at the entryway, and it was in you before you could grab the shotgun loaded with salt in the closet. It had a hold of you for five days before Sam and Dean passed through to see John, and you thanked all that's holy that the Demon couldn't make pie like you. Dean was already suspicious when he walked in and there was no fragrant smells to greet him, and with one bite he had jumped up and threw you in the repaired devil's trap. Before they could get it out of you, the black-eyed bitch had spat out that it knew they'd come for their whore. The comment was ignored by the men, but lingered in your mind.

After that, they took you to get the anti-possession symbol tattooed on your shoulder, claiming that your bracelet charm obviously wasn't enough. They proposed that you move to Lebanon and the safe harbor of the 'Batcave', but you agreed only to move to the actual town and transfer to the DMV office there. Within a week your entire house was packed and you and John were on your way to Kansas.

In Lebanon, the brothers had fairly unlimited access to you and John. Night visits became far more frequent for both the brothers, but it was usually Dean. When John was just 18 months old, you called the baby sitter over early and stopped by the drug store on the way to work to confirm a sneaking suspicion. Sure enough, a visit to the bathroom stall revealed another set of pink lines.

What an unusual predicament, you thought. For though you were absolutely sure that though this child would share your son's last name, it would not share his father.

Telling Dean was a lot easier than it had been with Sam. He was all smiles, wrapping you up in his arms and swinging you around before setting you down abruptly with the worry that he had somehow hurt the baby. He made promises to be here for every doctor visit, and he mostly was other than an incident with Oz (which sounded surreal even to your jaded mind). When the elder brother had discovered that his child was going to be a girl, he had stared in awe at the sonogram for what seemed like weeks. He had started bringing pink things to you along with the things he still picked up for John, and sometimes shyly asked to feel her kick.

That pregnancy was for more hormonal than John's had been. You had a moment once where Castiel had walked into the kitchen to find you plopped in front of the dishwasher bawling your eyes out and called Sam and Dean before leaving with a very uncomfortable look. You had sobbed that the demon was right, you were the Winchester Whore and they had immediately assuaged that you were in no shape or form a whore to them. There were sweet kisses and cuddles to back up those words, and you felt a little relieved.

When Dean had finally found the courage to ask if his mother's name could be a part of his daughter's, you burst into fresh tears and readily agreed. Margaret Mary Winchester had been born two weeks later, and her father had burst into the hospital room with barely 30 minutes to spare as she was a week early and he hadn't been even remotely near. He was a very attentive father, rarely leaving her side when he was there. He was the first to call her Maggie, and it stuck.

Things were a little hectic after that. It took time to get used to having an infant and a toddler, but both Winchester men were their for their children. Life, of course, can never be easy either, and shortly after Maggie's first birthday Sam and Dean were gone for a while. When they returned, it was with the biggest change of all. It was hard to associate the compassionate father, lover, and friend you knew with the cold, unfeeling husk Dean had become as a demon. Every time you saw the twinkling, jewel-bright green eyes Maggie had inherited turn a bottomless black, you had to excuse yourself to hide the tears. Sam promised that he would fix this, and you prayed nightly that he found a way to do so. Everything felt so wrong, and you often cried yourself to sleep.

A few injections of purified human blood lessened the insanity a little, and Dean would occasionally spend time with Maggie. By now she was two and didn't understand why her Daddy wasn't there as much. Your patience was tried day after day while she screamed for him. The boys were gone for awhile after that again, and when they reappeared the Mark of Cain was gone. When they came through your door Dean immediately swept his little girl into his arms and cried while saying 'I'm so sorry' over and over again. Sam cuddled with John but there was a look in his eye that you had seen before...perhaps it was better not to ask what they had been up to while they were gone. Dean then reached for you and pulled you into a toe-curling kiss that left you breathless, and then walked into the kitchen asking Maggie if Mommy had any pie. You glanced up at Sam and raised an eyebrow, but he just cupped your face, pressed a light kiss to your forehead, and followed Dean.

Life resumed after that in the odd, caring relationship that all three of you had shared for years. You knew that there were other women, but they never amounted to more than flings. The brothers were too faithful to their oddball family. It would never be a 'normal' family, but then you supposed that hunters could never really live normal lives. There were talks of more babies, but then you ended up in the Emergency Room and found out that there had been a miscarriage. You hadn't even known you were pregnant, but that ended any mentions of another baby.

John and Maggie grew up and flourished. They were sheltered at first to the life their fathers lived, but of course the truth eventually came out. Maggie chose to follow in her father's footsteps, but John stayed and achieved the college degree that his father had so desperately wanted.

You eventually moved into the Men of Letters bunker, keeping it clean and cooking for the rapidly growing Men of Letters organization. John would help you with the books, and Maggie would pass through occasionally. When you were all there, 'Family Night' reigned and ranged from hunter stories to movie binges in the lounge, but always contained laughter and pie.

When Sam died, it felt like the world had tipped over. You all knew there would be no coming back from this one. The lovable moose that had shared your bed and your heart and gave you a son was gone, and you and Dean were lost for awhile. One night, you came and sat down next to him in the bunker lounge, and with one look you were both crying and clutching on to eachother. You were both a little more okay after that. John gave you a grandson, little Sam, and life went on.

Maggie was just 32 when she was killed by a witch, and you felt so empty. She had always been the passionate, fiery minature of her father, and it had seemed like nothing could stop her. After you burned her body, you had a memorial block commissioned with Winchester on the top and John, Mary, Sam, and Maggie's names listed with the dates they had lived. It stood outside the Men of Letters bunker long past your days, reminding everyone of the cost of The Life.

It seemed so ironic that you had lived that life and taken down so much of the world's evil...but the thing that would kill you was a tiny lump in your right breast. Dean stayed with you til the end, and he whispered that he had loved you all along. You responded with a fading voice that you knew, and then closed your eyes because you were so, so tired.

In Heaven, you stood with Sam and Maggie and watched Dean put your name on that Winchester memorial. You made a comment that you weren't a Winchester, and Sam laughed and told you that you had earned your place.

You smiled faintly and thought about the strange story of the Winchester Whore, and that maybe she wasn't a whore after all.

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><p>AN: Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read. This is my first Supernatural fic, and I hope I did it justice. I also hope you had fun inserting yourself as the main character, if you chose to do so! Doing this perspective story was new for me and it was quite the challenge. As per usual, drop me a review if you loved it, hated it, or spotted a mistake.

Always,  
>DemoDeb<p> 


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